


Fairytale Stuff: Six Winter Drabbles

by irisbleufic



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: Homecoming, M/M, Recovery, Winter, Workplace, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the most wonderful time of the year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairytale Stuff: Six Winter Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in January of 2010.

 

**Stake-Out**

Danny tugs the armchair up against the window, even though it's fucking freezing with the curtains drawn back. The snow's been coming down for _hours_ , and the window's even frosted over. He clears the spot he's been using as a peep-hole for the tenth time, and then writes _NICHOLAS_ underneath it. _WANKER_. _COME HOME_.

He must have drifted off, because he wakes to a careful hand on his shoulder.

"Are you trying to freeze yourself to death?" Nicholas asks, brow furrowed. "It's your day off. You should be watching telly or something." There's snow on his hat, and he looks _delicious_.

"There's snow on your hat," says Danny, sleepily. "Hullo."

Nicholas's face is in that should-I-frown-or-pretend-I'm-not-laughing kind of place. Instead, he leans down and kisses Danny on the mouth, concerned and possessive and warm. He tastes like coffee, but Danny's not looking for blackmail material tonight.

"Upstairs," he says. "Go on. I'll bring you some tea."

Danny knows when to do what he's told.

 

 

 

**Any Better Than This**

Nicholas used to have normal days. He remembers them distantly, like nightmares.

A normal day had looked like this: get up, shower, find Jeanine already gone because she's efficient and infuriating, take the tube to work, help people, chase complete idiots around London, help more people, fill out forms, go home, find Jeanine already there preparing a gourmet meal because she cannot _possibly_ be human, watch witty sitcoms or an independent film, a long-suffering snog if he's lucky, bed.

After the break-up, they'd looked much the same, but without the tube and Jeanine.

He doesn't miss the ones that had come after, what with the murdering twats and Danny getting blown up. He'd learned quickly to be grateful for small mercies, like Cornettos and swan-chases. The latter two, at least, have stuck around.

Now, a _typical_ day looks like this: get up, untangle self from Danny, contemplate shower, wake Danny, either fail to shower or end up showering _with_ Danny, drive to work, exchange insults with staff, help people, chase complete idiots (and swans) around Sandford, help more people, exchange more insults, fill out forms, go home, make dinner, watch bad sitcoms or a decent film, snog and/or shag, bed.

Nicholas isn't sure what he ever saw in normal, especially without Danny.

 

 

**You Know What That Means**

Nicholas is wearing the one expression that no one around the station likes to see.

"Here we go again," sighs Doris. "What'll it be this time? Scrub the bins?"

"Quick," says Fisher, furtively. "Somebody hide the Dettol!"

Danny rolls his eyes.

"Best just hope he'll out with it. Quick and painless." He shoots Nicholas a glance, but Nicholas is still in the staring-at-his-desk-calendar phase of quietly manic.

"And you'd know," sniggers Wainwright.

"Shut up," mutters Cartwright. "He's moving!"

Whatever Walker mumbles, it's lost to a whimper from Saxon.

"I think," says Nicholas, rising, "that we're overdue a fee hike on the swears-box."

Everyone gets in a last round at the old rate, in any case.

 

 

**Fairytale Stuff**

“Cinderella,” says Nicholas, dubiously. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, it's sort of like,” Danny explains, leaning forward and shaking his beer bottle to see how much is left in it, “my life had been sort of crap ever since Mum died, yeah? I mean, it's not like Dad was making me do all his chores or nothing, but it was shit of him to keep me in a dead-end position 'round the station just so he could keep an eye on me. Anyway, then you came along all fairy-godmother-like and...”

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. Danny was impressively drunk.

“... _bang_! Shot all the bad guys. And, you know, the sunglasses fit.”

 

 

**The Best Laid Plans**

If Danny's dad had taught him anything worth remembering, it was how to pack snowballs. Such inclement weather was rare in their part of the country, but it happened at _least_ once a year and stuck around just long enough for the kids of Sandford to make a few sad-looking snowmen. _This_ stuff was a rare treat, already four inches deep and solidly compliant when scooped into his gloved hands.

Nicholas turned his head, leaving the hapless shopkeeper he'd been lecturing on the proper use of road salt looking vaguely relieved. A few pensioners had already slipped on the pavement, which meant they'd got a lot of complaint calls.

"Don't even _think_ about it."

Danny smiled innocently, hands behind his back. It'd be worth the wait.

 

 

 

**Out of Season**

"You can't be serious," Nicholas said, handing the carton back to Danny. "It's _January_."

"My flat's warm enough," Danny replied hopefully. "And if not, I'll crank up the heat!"

Nicholas heaved a long-suffering sigh, grabbed the Baked Alaska, and dropped it in the basket. "If it gets on the blankets again, _you're_ doing the washing."

Danny nodded solemnly. He wanted to kiss Nicholas, but he'd save that for later.

“I think I understand,” Nicholas tells him, and leans forward for a kiss.


End file.
